


Let Love Take You By The Hand

by anniebibananie



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Background Gendrya, Background Robbcella, Background Yara and Dany, F/M, Legit So Dumb, Modern Era, Text Messages, marriage pact, platonic marriage, they're so dumb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-06-30 08:42:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19849585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anniebibananie/pseuds/anniebibananie
Summary: Eight years ago Sansa and Theon made a pact to marry if they were still single when they hit thirty. On Theon’s thirtieth birthday, Sansa attempts to make good on the promise. Everything that follows gets… complicated.





	Let Love Take You By The Hand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheSushiMonster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSushiMonster/gifts).



> for shruti ([leopoldfitz](http://leopoldfitz.tumblr.com) on tumblr) who has just been the loveliest buddy in the theonsa fandom. it's her birthday!! go wish her a good one!

Sansa was staring at the tequila bottle sitting on the coffee table, half-finished and sort of sticky from their sloppy pours. Her hand itched, wondering if she should get another drink for her and Theon ready, but they’d sort of had enough, right? Gods, the carpet him and Robb had picked out for their living room was _scratchy_ against her bare thighs as her skirt rode up. Whatever, not the point. 

It was Theon’s _birthday._ They should be celebrating. He’d made it to 22! Sansa didn’t mean to make it sound like none of them had expected him to make it that long, but he was doing so well, and… she was proud of him. She reached out for the bottle, deciding _fuck it_ when Theon appeared in the open end of the hallway. 

“Hi,” she said, reaching up her hand and waving slightly at him. He smiled back, but it was tired. His curly hair was wild from anxious hands passing through it, and there was a big damp circle on the front of his black t-shirt. “Robb alive?” 

He motioned to the moisture on his shirt. “He spit up on me and then felt bad about it, so he just… threw a glass of water at me. To help clean up.” 

“Huh.” She reached out for the tequila bottle and held it up to him. 

His eyes narrowed at it, contemplating, before he shook his head. “Honestly the smell of Robb’s sick sort of ruined that for me. I’m gonna grab a beer. Want one?” 

She watched the back of his head as he went into the kitchen and wobbled up to her feet. For a second she paused to regain her balance, feeling the alcohol catch up with her head. Then she took a deep breath and felt her body settle, and she met Theon in his and Robb’s kitchen. Really more of a kitchenette, seeing as it was tiny and cramped with little practicality. 

Not that either of the boys cared much. Sansa went near the sink, leaning against the counter as Theon dipped his head into the fridge. 

“You have any pop?” she asked, feeling her head swirl again. Probably better if she switched over to something else. 

When he stood back up to full height he handed her over a Coke, and she gave him a grateful smile. His lips twitched, but he bit it down as he turned around to pull their bottle opener off the fridge. He cracked it open and took a long drink. When he pulled back he sighed. 

“I needed that after dealing with your drunk brother.” 

“I offered to help,” she replied as she made her way back to the living room. Looking at the uncomfortable carpet and remembering the chafe against her thighs, she decided to fall into the couch instead of take back up her place on the floor. Though the couch was leather and _also_ sort of sketchy in a different way. 

Robb and Theon hadn’t exactly put a lot of work into decorating the place. 

Theon plopped down beside her, the soft padding of the couch making her fall into Sansa’s side a little. He was warm, and despite dealing with a drunk Robb still smelled nice. Something fresh she couldn’t name, also a little woodsy perhaps.

“Yeah, but Robb wouldn’t have it. _My sister can’t see me like this_ ,” Theon mimicked in a ridiculous voice. “As if you haven’t seen him be an idiot the entirety of his life. The dramatic git.” 

She hit her shoulder into his, teasing (and then just sort of… let it stay there). “You _love_ him.” 

“I bloody do!” he exclaimed with no desire to hide it. “And it’s a fucking inconvenience, can I tell you that. You Starks…” he trailed off, cutting the thought with a drink of his beer. 

“Us Starks?” she asked, raising a brow in a sort of challenge. 

He turned to meet her gaze, and as he did he lifted up his right arm and put it on the back of the couch. Sansa scooted closer without thinking about the implications of it. Theon and her had known each other pretty much their whole lives, and Sansa thought _implications_ might just not exist for them at this point. Even if she wanted them to. 

“Making my life fucking difficult, is all,” he explained. 

“Except for me. Your favorite,” Sansa tested. 

He hummed in response but didn’t say anything else. Sansa leaned her head against his shoulder and scooped her legs up onto the couch half underneath herself. His arm curved a little more around her, and it was probably just because he was drunk and perhaps a bit melancholy from his birthday, but Sansa was going to accept it. 

“Sure you didn’t want to do anything else for your birthday?” Sansa asked. 

“It’s a little too late now, love.” His hand found the loose strands of her hair, twirling them around his fingers. “No, this was good. We met our friends at the pub. You helped me get your sloshed brother home. What else could I want?” 

She shrugged and scooted closer into him. His hand traveled further up her hair, now scratching at her scalp. It was a major weakness for her. Her body loosened, and she fell further into Theon’s side. He didn’t seem to care at all, except for an amused sort of snort, as he kept at it. 

“Big party,” she replied after a beat. “I could have planned it if you wanted.”

“I didn’t want, would’ve been all too much fuss.” He propped his legs up on the coffee table and leaned back into the couch further. “Worse ways I could end the night than cuddling on the couch with a beautiful woman.” 

“We’re not cuddling,” she mumbled, though she said it as she readjusted her head on his shoulder so it was a fairly pathetic argument. 

He laughed lightly. “Sure. We’re not.” He pulled his hand off her head, and she whined on reflex. When he went back to scratching, she relaxed. “That’s what I thought.” 

“You’re 22 now. How do you feel?” 

He sighed, and she could feel the motion of it through his body. “I feel old.” 

She scoffed, pushing herself up now. “You’re _not_ old. In what world is 22 _old_.” 

“I have a full time job. No longer in school. Have an apartment. Sometimes, I don’t want to go out because watching a movie seems nicer. _Old_ ,” he argued. 

This was so absolutely ridiculous she couldn’t wrap her head around it. She twisted as she brought her legs to a crossed position, turning so she was sideways on the couch. “You’re the most ridiculous person I’ve met. When you have a wife and 2.5 kids _that's_ when I’ll consider you properly old.”

He groaned and threw his head back against the couch. “That’ll never happen.” 

Her brows scrunched together. “What do you mean?” 

His eyes were closed with his head still leaned back, and from here Sansa could appreciate the lines of him. Sharp jaw. Scooped nose. The small markings near his eyes from how often he laughed. Theon wasn’t always great, she knew that better than anyone (he had been _cocky_ and sort of insufferable really for a long time), but it had dulled. Now she mostly felt fondness for him even when annoyance was mixed in there as well. 

“Who is going to want to marry me?” he asked. His voice was plain as he said it—near fact, near indisputable. 

Sansa thought it was bullshit, but a normal response would have been _You’ll find love_ or _Theon don’t be an idiot, anyone would be lucky_. Not what she said. 

“I’ll marry you.” 

His eyes widened comically large. If her heart wasn’t beating so ridiculously, she might have been able to appreciate the humor of it more. 

“What?” He scratched at the stubble on his jaw, seemingly trying to gain some sense of control on this conversation. “ _What?”_

She shrugged, trying to keep this casual. She blamed it on the alcohol in her system and the three freckles she’d just noticed that were somehow on his _ear_ and were ridiculously cute. Mostly the alcohol, though. 

“Marriage pact. If by 30 we’re not married, then we marry each other.” 

His eyes narrowed suspiciously, but then he was shaking it off with a laugh. “That’s ridiculous, but okay. I’m getting the far better end of that deal.” 

Pushing down the urge to argue, Sansa merely held out her extended pinky. The nail was long and pink with a little flower she had spent a half hour painting, but Theon was looking at it like it was the strangest thing he had ever seen. Then a smirk took over, and he was taking the finger easily enough. 

“A kiss to seal the deal,” Sansa said. His brows raised up his forehead, but they calmed when he noticed her lips going to her own fist and _not_ his lips. 

“You’re weird,” he said, but he did as she told him. He watched her the whole time, their faces two fists apart, as they kissed their hands. “Promise.” 

She nodded, finally letting go of his pinky. “Promise.” 

* * *

**Eight Years Later**

While they could hear the loud bass of the club, the private room Sansa had organized for the night was quieter. There was still good music playing, and the drinks were certainly flowing, but she was glad to not have to be pressed against a mass of sweaty bodies all vying for alcohol and trying to find someone to shag for the night to feel less lonely. 

She preferred feeling lonely the old-fashioned, repressed English sort of way. Though, maybe she wouldn’t be feeling it for that long. 

“Where’d you go? You’ve spaced,” Arya said, snapping directly in front of Sansa’s eyes. 

Sansa shook out of it and grabbed her mixed drink. She wasn’t sure exactly what was all in it, but she’d said she’d wanted something sweet and the bartender assured her she could whip something up. It was good, brightly colored in a way that would have made her self conscious years ago and now she couldn’t care less about. 

“Stop that.” She swiped at Arya’s hand as she kept doing it, repressing a laugh as Arya stuck her tongue back out at her. “Where’d your boyfriend go?” 

Arya rolled her eyes. “They’re all in some sort of weird man huddle.” She waved her hand behind her, and Sansa turned to lean her back against the bar to see. 

Sure enough, Gendry was in the thick of it with Jon, Robb, and Theon. It always seemed sort of funny to see them together. Four relatively fit guys, hulking away in the corner like some sort of advert tonight in their buttoned-up shirts and styled hair. 

“Huh,” Sansa said as she took another sip of her drink. She tilted her head, watching them curiously. “What do you think they even _talk_ about?” 

“Beats me.” Arya shrugged. “Protein powder? The stock market? Some sporting event?” 

“You think there’s any chance they’re talking about the _stock market_?” 

“Nah,” Arya said through a laugh, “but I thought it was funny to assume they were.” She paused as the two of them watched the boys sort of like they were animals in an exhibit at the zoo. “Your boyfriend like his party?” Arya asked after a beat more of it. 

Sansa side-eyed her sister. “Not my boyfriend.” 

It wasn’t like she hadn’t heard this a million times before from pretty much every person in her life. Even Robb, dramatic as all hell _Robb_ had willingly joked about it only a few weeks ago, which meant it must have gotten pretty bad. Or normalized, more like, if he was beginning to accept a relationship she wasn’t truly apart of with his best friend. 

“Talking about my brother?” Yara asked as she appeared beside them, Daenerys practically attached by her hip. 

Dany had her arms around Yara’s waist, her chin resting on Yara’s shoulder. Sansa would have been annoyed by the two of them and their constant displays of affection if it wasn’t usually so cute. Not to mention, they’d probably be arguing within the hour, then sneak off to “make up”, and go right back to being insufferable and in love. They had a natural cycle. It was sort of reassuring, actually. 

“We are talking about your brother. Your brother who is not my boyfriend,” Sansa repeated. 

“Wait, you two aren’t dating?” Dany asked, pushing her eyebrows together. 

Sansa rolled her eyes. “Stop asking it like you haven’t asked a million times over. The bit is dead.” 

Dany’s fake sweet smile slipped into a playful one as Yara laughed over her shoulder to her. “Hm. But I just keep resurrecting it.” 

“Unfortunately,” Arya muttered. When Daenerys flipped her off, Arya stuck her tongue out. 

At that moment Theon looked up to see all four of them watching, and he gave an awkward wave. They all waved back to him. 

“As lovely as all of your company is…” Sansa said with a wave over her shoulder, already walking over to the boys. She could hear Yara laugh at something Arya said, though Sansa hadn’t caught the comment. Something about her and Theon, no doubt. Whatever, it didn’t matter. 

“Hey, can I steal the birthday boy?” Sansa asked as she sidled up to the four of them. 

“Gladly,” Jon said with a smile. 

“Fuck off, Snow,” Theon replied as he let his arm be grabbed by Sansa. There wasn’t much actual malice in his voice, though; the animosity softened to more of a natural joke at this point. 

“Male bravado away, boys.” Sansa smiled at them wide and sweet—sometimes in her head she thought about them as _her_ boys, though she knew she didn’t control any of them. They just all had special places in her heart, all four of them, and she couldn't help but feel that sense of love and need to care for them when it was like this. “I was just asking to be nice, anyways. I was going to quite literally steal him, either way.” 

“Ooo kinky,” Theon teased. 

“Ew,” Robb deadpanned. He looked down at his empty beer. “More alcohol.” 

“That’s the birthday spirit!” Theon called after him, Jon and Gendry wandering behind Sansa’s brother. 

“I want to give you something,” Sansa said, reaching down to the pockets of her dress to come back empty. “Shoot, we’ve got to go to the coat closet.” 

Theon smirked. “So this _is_ kinky.” 

“You’re thirty now, aren’t you supposed to be above propositioning random girls to have sex with you in coat closets?” Sansa asked as she wrapped her arms around his bicep, pulling herself into his side to get closer as they walked down the strangely thin and tall hallway to the closet. 

“Oh, Sansa Stark,” he replied, putting his own hand over hers on his arm, “what in the world makes you think you’re a random girl?” 

She rolled her eyes and pulled away from him, the two now standing on opposite sides of the door. “Get in the closet, Theon Greyjoy.” 

“Ooo, I love my women dominant.” 

“Stop!” She laughed, reaching out and pushing him through as he laughed in return. She closed the door behind her, though she realized it was sort of creepy with the two of them in this dimly lit closet that couldn't hold more than another person or two. 

He was eyeing her like she was crazy, which she sort of was, but the truth was she had thought it would be easier to do this without other eyes. She turned to find her coat and pulled the package out of the pocket. 

“I have a gift.” Her palms were already growing slicker, and _this was a horrible idea wasn’t it?_

His nose wrinkled. “Sansa, you already gave me this party. That's more than enough.” 

“Well,” she began, but the words got lost, and she ended up handing over the small box instead. 

Theon took it slowly, eyeing it with focused eyes, unbelieving ones. It was a ring box, but he turned it over in his palms as if it could possibly hold any other secrets. When he finally opened it, he pulled out the ring slowly before looking up to meet her eyes. “Sansa?” 

“A long time ago we said if we weren’t married by thirty, we’d marry each other. So, Theon Greyjoy, will you—” 

“Sansa, you’re only _26_ you can’t give your life—” 

“I’m almost 27,” she argued. 

“Oh, you’re right. The extra year changes _everything_ how could—”

“Theon!” she exclaimed. The bickering stopped, and they stared at one another as their breathing caught up. “I want to marry you, if you would still like to. I know it was silly, and we were drunk so maybe it never meant anything to you, but if it _did._ If you want to be married to someone you trust and love and start some sort of life _together_ then…”

“Sansa,” he asked, stepping closer and bringing a hand up to her cheek, making sure her eyes met his. “Are you _sure_ about this? Have you really thought about it?” She nodded. He smiled at her, small and soft and unbelieving. “You’re the most incredible woman I’ve ever met. If you’re ridiculous enough to want to latch yourself to _me_ then—”

“Oh shut up,” she said as she pushed forward and wrapped her arms around his neck. He clung onto her in return, and she let her nose rest into his neck. “Will you marry me, Theon Greyjoy?” 

“I’d be the world’s biggest idiot if I answered that question with anything besides yes.” 

She pulled back and smiled wide, holding out her open palm for the ring. After he handed it back over, she took his hand and slid it on. The ring was simple and silver. It looked oddly fitting on his hand, and Sansa couldn’t really believe it. 

“Do you like it?” she asked. 

“I love it.”

She could almost pretend he was saying _I love you._

* * *

“Soy sauce me.” Sansa held out her take out container, opening the flap to Theon on the other side of the couch.

He did as he was told, pouring the sauce into her rice and chicken mix. Then he reclined as she did the same, both of their backs against the arms of the couch and their legs intertwining in the middle. For a beat the two of them ate in companionable silence, some acoustic music playing through the speaker, before Sansa paused with the food in her lap and looked at Theon. 

“I think you should move in.” 

He paused too. “Here?” 

She tilted her head. “I mean, yeah? No offense, but your apartment is sort of a shithole. We could look for a new apartment together if you want something with more space since our budget could stretch a little more, maybe.” 

“You want… to live with me?” Theon asked again, as if this wasn’t clear. 

“Theon.” Sansa wanted to laugh, but she tried her hardest to keep it in. It was just that she had quite literally _proposed_ to him going on two weeks ago, now. When it was the two of them alone in one of their apartments he _wore_ the ring (they still hadn’t told everyone yet, mostly because Sansa hadn’t thought of the best way to explain they were getting married… platonically). “We’re going to get married. Did you think we were going to live in different flats?” 

“I’m still not convinced this isn’t an extravagant plot set forth by Arya to trick me.” 

“She might, but _I_ would never do that to you.” Sansa hit his calf with her foot, trying to get him to come full surface. There were times it felt as if there were layers between them, or more like layers between him and the present. It was easy for him to get lost in his head, though she knew she did it too, sometimes. 

She waited, though. She was always happy to wait for him, give him the time he needed, sometimes pull him out the way she knew he needed. There was a lot she was willing to do for Theon that she probably never would have thought about for someone else. Hell, she wanted to do it for the rest of her life, didn’t she?

“Where’s your head at?” she asked. 

He pushed the food in his take out container around with his fork, not actually picking any of it up and bringing it to his lips. Then he paused again and fully met her gaze. 

“Are you sure? Really sure?” he asked. 

She sighed and set her food down. Then she crawled over the couch toward him. Sansa grabbed the food out of his hands and set it on the coffee table, sitting in his lap practically with her knees on either side of his waist. Her hands came out gently to his cheeks, forcing his eyes on her. He was warm underneath her touch. 

“Theon Christopher Greyjoy—” 

He laughed. “Not my middle name.” 

“I didn’t know it so I made it up for effect. What is it?” 

“I don’t have one.”

“Huh.” She readjusted her shoulders, coming back to focus. “Okay. Theon Greyjoy, I asked you to marry me because I _want_ to marry you. I trust you, and I _get_ you and I think you get me, too. Coming home to _you_ for the rest of my life is honestly perfect. And if someday you fall in love with someone and want out, then I will give that to you,” she said with a shrug. “Otherwise… Otherwise I want you, and I want us. And I will be accepting _no_ more questions regarding whether _I_ want to do this.” 

When he spoke, his voice was nearly hoarse. “Okay.” 

She nodded in agreement, and then instead of returning to her own side of the couch she slipped down to lie on top of him. Her ear went to his chest, and she kept her arms wrapped as well as she could manage around his abdomen, and his own hand came to her hair. She felt her breath even out as she was calmed by him so near. 

“I can move in here,” he answered finally. “Unless you’d rather search for new places.” 

“You already have a drawer here. It’s basically as if you have been living here,” she answered. “We’ll be doing wedding planning stuff, soon. Looking for a place on top of it might be stressful.” 

“That’s true.” His hands ran over her hair softly, pausing every once in a while to simply keep her close. “When are we going to tell them, love?” he asked. 

“Maybe we should plan a dinner with everyone.” It wasn’t that she was embarrassed or scared, though she knew they were going to get some flack for it all, it was mostly that she was scared making it real would make it crumble. “Your sister and Dany, my sister and Gendry.” 

“Robb,” Theon added. 

“Robb,” she agreed. “Myrcella too, then. Would adding Marg be too much?” 

“You might want to tell her one on one.” Theon’s hand stopped, and his arms went around her to hold her to him tighter. “It’ll all go well. Just…” 

“Just?” she asked. 

“Your parents.” 

“Huh.” 

“Yeah.”

“Fuck?” 

Theon laughed. “That an invitation, or…” 

“Boo,” she replied, pushing up and narrowing her eyes at him. “I’m going back to my food.” 

“No!” he exclaimed still through chuckles, tightening his arms to keep her from escaping. “Just a little longer.”

She sighed, though it wasn’t tired. It was mostly content. “Fine.” She sunk back into him. 

* * *

MARGAERY “HOT AS HELL” TYRELL

 **Sansa** : I may or may not have made a grave error. But also I need to talk to you. 

**Margaery** : Wearing heels on a date that requires walking grave error or curtain fringe without consulting me grave error. 

**Sansa** : It’s like also a really good thing. I feel like I didn’t highlight the fact that it’s a good thing enough. 

**Margaery** : You’re so absolutely indecipherable over text message, let’s meet up for brunch at High Garden

 **Sansa:** Me and my fringe will be waiting

 **Margaery** : This better be a joke Sansa Stark or I will be FURIOUS

* * *

“So, you’re—” 

“Marrying Theon Greyjoy.” 

“But like—” Margaery tilted her head, hair rolling over her shoulder. “You’re not in a relationship?” 

Sansa rested her chin on her fist, eyeing Margaery over their mimosas and french toast. “Well soon we’ll be husband and wife.” 

“Huh.” Margaery paused and grabbed her drink. “You’re crazy.” She held it up in toast. “But damnit if your wedding won’t be fucking amazing. You two have been married for as long as I’ve known you. I suppose the ring makes it official.” 

Sansa smiled. “Cheers to that.” 

* * *

SANSA STARK created a Group with _GENDRY “THE BULL” BARATHEON, ROBB STARK, MYRCELLA HELLA STARK, ARYA_ _🔪_ _STARK, DANY_ _🐉_ _TARGARYEN, YARA GREYJOY and THEON_ _💍_ _GREYJOY_

SANSA STARK changed the Group Name to NEAR ADULTS

 **Sansa** : Welcome. 

**Theon:** pls come to this address on thurs night

[pin sent]

 **Robb** : Are we… being murdered? Because Cella and I have a surely ENTHRALLING doc about Baroque Art History saved to the DVR to watch

 **Myrcella:** Sansa? Theon? Why so sketch. 

Robb? The documentary WILL be enthralling don’t be RUDE in front of the children

 **Arya:** marriage has changed u both

 **Sansa:** Theon… seven hells. Here’s the link to the restaurant, we’d be really happy if you could all join us? Something we wanted to talk about!

[link sent]

 **Yara:** Will there be alcohol? 

**Gendry:** This better not be like the time I was invited over to Winterfell for a “family dinner” and found out you guys do a yearly STARK OLYMPICS

 **Arya** : Dude, you loved it

 **Yara:** will there be ALcoHoL

 **Gendry** : Wish I’d had more time to really prep, y’know. Rickon and I could have worked on our three-legged race form. 

**Myrcella** : Form? You just picked him up and made a run for it while he was tied to your side. 

**Yara** : aLcOhOL

 **Gendry** : We WON didn’t we

 **Myrcella** : UNFAIRLY!!! 

**Dany:** Yara wants to know if there’ll be alcohol. 

Also I would like to be invited to Stark Olympics. 

**Robb** : You’re not a Stark

 **Dany** : I like competition. What do I have to do to get in? 

**Robb** : Be a Stark. 

**Dany** : I will find a way into this competition, and you will be sorry about the day you tried to tell Daenerys Targaryen she was to be refused. 

**Arya:** you can marry me if u want, d

 **Gendry:** NO SHE CAN NOT

 **Dany:** **＾▽＾**

 **Sansa** : Um… Dinner? Can I hear some aye’s pls? 

**Myrcella** : Aye

 **Arya** : Aye (plus gendry. he’s lost in a hole researching three-legged race rules)

 **Robb** : Aye

 **Yara:** conditionally aye

 **Theon:** Let me guess the condition is alcohol

 **Yara:**!! you know me so well !!!!

 **Dany:** If I’m free. Might be planning my revenge plot against Robb Stark. Let you guys know!!

 **Myrcella:** please don’t kill my husband i still want to watch this baroque art documentary

 **Robb** : maybe you should just kill me

 **Sansa:** See you all there!

* * *

“I’m nervous,” Sansa said as she adjusted her skirt. 

Theon’s arm was on the back of her chair, and he leaned in despite the fact that no one else was there yet and the restaurant wasn’t even loud. “Don’t be. What’s there to be nervous about?” 

She leveled his gaze. “We’re about to tell some of our closest family we’re getting married despite the fact that we never dated.” 

He scoffed jokingly, leaning back into his own chair. “I mean, yeah _that_ bit will be a little difficult. But then after that?” 

She paused and a laugh took her by surprise, in a way seemingly only Theon could pull from her most of the time. She shook her head, the red ringlets spreading over her shoulders. “Ridiculous.” 

“That’s why you’re marrying me, love,” he said as he reached forward and pushed hair behind her ear. “I make you laugh.” 

“Oh, I was just doing it for the dashing good looks.” 

His smile widened. “That too.” 

“An added bonus, then.” 

Finally Robb and Myrcella appeared, looking like some sort of Instagram couple the way their outfits coordinated, and Sansa reached for Theon’s hand underneath the table. He squeezed back and didn’t let go. 

* * *

Theon closed her front door behind them and leaned against it. Sansa stayed standing in front of him, eyes staring off into nothing. 

“I think my favorite part of the night was when everyone was stunned into silence and Yara tried to break it by getting shots for the table,” Sansa said after another beat, looking up at him with a smile. 

“Our truest ally,” he said before his brows met in the middle. “Though, maybe not considering she proceeded to invite you into a threesome if I didn’t satisfy you.” 

Sansa waggled her brows. “Should I take them up on it.” 

Theon gasped. “Mrs. Sansa Greyjoy!” 

“I was thinking Mr. Theon Stark has a nice ring to it.” 

He reached up to his tie and loosened it, though it wasn’t quite coming undone. Sansa reached forward and gently slapped his hands away, doing it for him as he shifted out of his jacket. “What if we just combine our last names? Starjoy or something.” 

Her hands stilled as she pulled the tie off. “Starjoy. You want our combined last name to be _Starjoy._ Sansa _Starjoy._ ”

“Not my best idea.” 

“On the list of ten worst, really.” 

He looked at her then in a way that made her pause, unsure how to move from her spot. Eyes warm and smile tender. 

“Did you know we’re getting married?” he asked. “You get to come home every day to _this_.” 

She narrowed her eyes playfully as she hummed. Slipping out of her heels, she pulled out her phone and started playing a song. It was smooth and easy, and after a beat it switched over to the speaker she had set up in the living room. It already made her feel calmer, on top of Theon’s light manner, after the whole dinner affair to move with the music and let it all go. 

“I started making a list,” he whispered as he came next to her and joined in her swaying, arm on her back and hand interlacing fingers with her own. 

“A list of what?” she asked. Her eyes were still closed as she let the music wash over her, and she could only imagine what Theon’s face could be. Maybe he was watching her. Maybe he was somewhere else entirely. 

“Wedding songs. For our first dance, that is.” 

She opened her eyes, and he was looking straight at her.

“Did you know we’re getting married?” she repeated.

It was quiet, barely even a whisper, barely heard over the music. 

He nodded, and she smiled, and the two kept dancing in her living room. Soon to be theirs. 

* * *

ARYA 🔪 STARK

 **Sansa** : On a scale of zero to ten how badly did we think last night went? I’m convinced I blacked out. 

**Arya** : not as bad as you think i’m sure

though you’re marrying theon greyjoy have you thought of the implications of that

he cried during finding dory sansa

him and the six year olds

 **Sansa** : You cried during Marley & Me

 **Arya** : EVERYONE cried during Marley and Me

 **Sansa** : True. Yeah I’ve thought about it, and it’s not just a joke. I don’t know. 

I don’t want to spend the rest of my life coming home to nothing. I want to have someone. 

**Arya** : Bitch I’m someone

 **Sansa** : You are OBVIOUSLY my person but like

You have that bf, y’know? What do I do when you and Gendry are living domestic as hell life? 

**Arya** : Come join us. Or I’ll disappear to the ocean, sail away, and you can join me. 

So it’s about not wanting to be alone? That doesn’t seem great either honestly

 **Sansa** : I want to be with him. 

**Arya** : sounds like … you have feelings … and this ain’t … no platonic shit

 **Sansa** : shhhhhhhhh

 **Arya** : dont SHUSH me you can’t just MARRY SOMEONE UNDER THE GUISE OF PLATONIC while you have GENUINE FEELINGS I–

 **Sansa** : SHHHHHHHHH

 **Arya** : aight. you make some good points. 

* * *

Gendry picked up another box from the trunk of the moving van they’d rented for the day before turning to Sansa. His arms didn’t look tired in the least. “I resent that you guys always use me for my strength.” 

“Oh, I was just using you to have something pretty to look at,” Sansa replied as she reached for a box of her own, winking over at him.

“Same,” Arya said with a snort. 

Gendry eyed her down. “I’ll hide the cookies somewhere you can’t _reach._ Let’s see how you like that.” He waited for Arya to open the door as she rolled in one of Theon’s suitcases. 

Sansa followed in after them, readjusting the box in her arms. “You say that as if Arya didn’t have a weird parkour phase and could probably maneuver her way up to any high surface.” 

“Wait,” Gendry said as he paused by the elevator. “How did I not _know_ about this.” 

“Well,” Arya began, “ _usually_ we do not discuss this phase of my life because—” 

“Don’t worry, I have pictures. She just had a weird haircut and likes to pretend it didn’t exist.” 

“I _never_ had an asymmetrical bob cut, _never_ had an asymmetrical bob cut,” Arya chanted, the sound growing louder. 

When the elevator stopped on Sansa’s floor, they maneuvered their way through the hallway that was filled with extra boxes and wayward pieces of furniture. They probably should have accounted better for everything they had and the amount of space they were trying to put it in. Sansa was sure they’d figure it out. 

She dropped the box in the kitchen and went to find Robb, Jon, and Theon sprawled on the couch together. 

“You are all useless.” 

Robb groaned. “I’m tired. Feed me.” 

“Wow, what a catch you are,” Margaery joked from her place in the hallway where she was helping unpack towels. She popped her head out. “I’m sure it’s that self-sufficient trait that roped your wife in.”

“Stop being jealous, Tyrell,” Robb replied. 

“Sure, just tell your wife when she wants an orgasm to find me.” Margaery winked, and Jon and Theon laughed, and Robb flicked her off. 

“You two never play nice,” Sansa said, finding her voice now that she stopped watching the two of them spar back and forth like some sort of tennis match. 

“Oh, Robb loves me. That's how we communicate, right darling?” Margaery said as she gave up her work in the hallway and sat down in the armchair.

“Right,” he said with a nod and a wave of his hand. “She’s just mad her favorite gays aren’t here.” 

“Ugh.” Margaery held her hands over her heart. “It’s so true, and you know me so well. Where’s Dany and Yara? Where’s Meera? I look so hot organizing the towels, and what’s the point if I can’t use it as a tool to make Meera Reed fall in love with me.” 

“I thought you were just trying to bang her,” Jon added, sounding disturbed with himself for knowing that information. 

“Can we get back to the food issue!” Robb exclaimed. “We can talk about Margaery’s weird feelings _while_ we eat.” 

Sansa came over to Theon and plopped onto his lap, his arms wrapping around her waist in way that seemed instinctive. She sunk further into it. _You get to come home every day to this,_ her mind said. _But if it's not_ real _real does it even count?_ her heart replied. “We could do some take out?” she suggested, ignoring both of them. 

“We’ll grab the take out menus!” Arya called from the kitchen, where Gendry and her were seemingly… doing something. 

Margaery started arguing with Robb about something after that, and Jon seemed to begrudgingly listen in (though Sansa knew that was a lie because Jon Snow was secretly one of the most dramatic people she knew), and Sansa turned to her soon to be _husband._

“Welcome home,” she whispered to him. 

He smiled and dipped closer to press a kiss into her shoulder. “Feels good to be here.” 

* * *

YARA GREYJOY

 **Sansa** : Hi do you have any time to answer some questions about wedding stuff? Theon said you’d have more info on addresses and stuff than him. 

**Yara** : It’s in the office at work. Come over for a pint? 

**Sansa** : Sure! Thank youuuuuuuuuuu

* * *

“Any addresses we have for relatives are going to be in this,” Yara said as she dropped an old decaying address book on the bar top. 

Sansa scrunched her brow and reached for her beer. “That doesn’t look very promising.” 

“Honestly?” Yara reached up to her hair and pulled it back into a ponytail. “It isn’t. But also, have you talked to Theon? He probably doesn’t want half these people invited.” 

Sansa met her eyes. “That’s why I’m supposed to talk to you.” 

“He should be doing this grunt work instead.” A patron walked in from the street and held up a hand. Yara waved to them and tapped the bar in front of Sansa. “I’ll be back in just a minute.” 

Sansa looked down at the small book, worn and weary on the edges. When she opened the cover she saw the name _Alannys Harlaw Greyjoy_ in a rough sort of scrawl. High and sharp letters in a blue fine-point pen. She smoothed her fingers over it, wondering what the woman who wrote it must have been like. 

“She would have liked you,” Yara said. 

Sansa hadn’t realized she’d come back, and she looked up with a start. “Your mom?” 

Yara nodded gruff as she leaned up against the bar. “She was a hard woman in a way, but she was good, too. Made me the way I am. Loved Theon to the ends of the sea.” 

“I wish she would have been here to see it.” Sansa eyed the scrawl again, recognizing the loop of the G the same exact way Theon signed his own name. 

“Me too. Would have gotten a right laugh out of whatever shit show excuse you two have for getting married. Though, she might not have cared as long as she got some grandchildren out of it.” 

Sansa blanched. 

Yara chuckled. “You haven’t talked about kids, have you?” 

“I should talk about kids with him,” Sansa replied, voice sort of dazed. She hadn’t actually _thought_ about that part of the equation. She’d thought about the possibility of marrying him for eight whole years (plus a little time before that, probably), and not once had she properly considered that part of the arrangement. 

“I mean…” Yara began, reaching for her own beer to take a drink. “I might start with talking about feelings first, but you two don’t do anything in the right order so.” She shrugged. “Good luck with… that.” 

* * *

THEON 💍 GREYJOY

 **Sansa** : what if… we got a dog

 **Theon** : say no more

 **Sansa** : you’re supposed to say they’re a lot of work! And money! And we should sleep on it! 

**Theon** : booooooo let’s go to the shelter

 **Sansa** : okay

 **Theon** : yayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

* * *

“You’re a good dog, aren’t you?” Sansa rubbed over her head, unable to fight the smile on her face as she sat on the ground of the kennel with the dog. She was beautiful and golden and lovely. She looked nothing like the dogs of her youth, the furry northern practically wolves, but the dog in front of her had good energy. A dog she could imagine cuddling up on the couch with her and Theon at night after their long days of work.

“Theon!” she called, hoping he was nearby. “Where’d you go? Come pet our dog.” 

“Sansa…” 

She turned around to see him holding a fluffy orange cat who was purring as he held her cradled in his arms like a baby. It looked like the cat might be missing an eye, and her fur was a bit wild, but she suspected they could comb it out without _too_ much trouble. 

“You want the cat, don’t you?” she asked with a sigh. 

He nodded as he smiled over at her mischievously. “You want the dog?” 

She chewed on her bottom lip as she stared between the two animals. “Bring her over here. Let’s see if they get along.” 

“This is a bad idea,” Theon said as he did just that. “Who said we should come here?"

“I will _murder_ your daddy, won’t I? Yes I _will_ ,” Sansa cooed to the dog. 

“Why would you use daddy knowing all I’m going to want to do is make a joke about being yours,” Theon said as he sat on the ground beside her, crossing his legs and letting the cat cautiously step out. 

The cat laid right up against the line of the dog’s body. 

“Well, that settles that.” Sansa laughed and smiled, tucking hair behind her ears. The smile Theon shot back to her in return left her feeling weak. 

* * *

THOSE MEDDLING KIDS

SANSA STARK changed the Group Name to THOSE MEDDLING KIDS (AND THEIR DOG, TOO)

 **Arya** : There better be a picture of a dog ASAP or I will riot

 **Rickon** : puppy! Puppy!! PUPPY

 **Sansa** : welcome to the family!!!

[sent an image]

 **Theon** : this group name is cat erasure

 **Robb** : Why didn’t you text me beforehand I would have told you not to go to the shelter

neither of you have impulse control

 **Meera** : DOGGO!!! SO CUTE!!!

Cat is …. Alright! Acceptable! An animal!!

 **Theon** : the cat hate in this group MUST stop. I will not tolerate cyber bullying of my daughter. 

**Jon** : I thought Theon didn’t even like animals

 **Sansa** : [sent an image]

evidence proving otherwise

 **Gendry** : you really cuddled in there with them mate

 **Dany** : let’s set up a play date with them and my snakes soon

 **Meera** : pls tell me that's a joke and you ain’t actually got snakes bish

 **Bran** : Not a joke. I babysat for them once. 

**Meera** : Gross!!!

 **Dany** : Do NOT insult my babies. It will NOT end well for you. 

**Yara** : babe it’s fine deep breaths we talked about this

 **Sansa** : back to MY babies which are perfect!!!

 **Theon** : *our

 **Sansa** : back to OUR babies which are perfect

 **Yara** : guess you guys finally talked about kids then

 **Theon** : what

 **Robb** : what

 **Sansa** : yeah, uh what ????????

definitely haha h a don’t know what you’re talking about 

**Yara** : y’all are hopeless

* * *

MAIDS OF (DIS)HONOR

 **Sansa** : Help me pick out invitations. We get to smell lots of different types of parchment it’ll be exciting. 

**Margaery** : I’m still insulted I have to share this title

 **Arya** : Love you too bitch!!!!!

Also smelling parchment should not be a selling point. Will there be champagne. 

**Margaery** : I mean where there’s a will there’s a way

 **Arya** : I like the way you think

* * *

Arya held up two different invitations, one in each hand, and slapped them frustratingly down on the table. “I don’t see a goddamn difference between the two of these.” 

Margaery rolled her eyes. “It’s all in the finish.” 

Arya’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, yeah. _Obviously.”_

“I feel like the off-white is better?” Sansa asked as she eyed the book of invitations in front of her, determinedly _not_ getting into Arya and Margaery’s squabbles. “Don’t you know someone that can do calligraphy, Marg?” 

“I _always_ know a person.” Margaery tutted. “I have a question.” 

“Hopefully about invitations?” Sansa asked as she finally looked up. Both Margaery and Arya’s eyes were on her. 

“No,” Margaery said as she rested her chin on the palm of her hand, her ringed fingers tapping against her cheek. “Have you and Theon _kissed?_ ”

Sansa blushed. “No. Why would I… _No._ ”

“Wait, that's weirder somehow,” Arya said. “What are you going to do when the ceremony is happening? You may now kiss the bride?” 

“You can’t _not_ kiss during the ceremony. It’ll throw the whole thing off,” Margaery agreed. 

Sansa had clearly gotten in over her head. There was so much about living her life with Theon that was _easy._ Coming home to him was easy and co-owning a pet was _surprisingly_ easy. They got along, and even when they bickered they got over it easily enough. Their fights were normal and healthy. They knew how to give each other space when they needed it or cuddle when they needed the opposite. 

But there was some stuff she had just… glossed over. She hadn’t thought about having to watch Theon walk out of the bathroom in only a towel. Hadn’t thought about how adorable he’d look in the morning bleary and only half awake. _Hadn’t_ thought about kissing him at their wedding. 

“We’re going to kiss,” Sansa declared, hoping to bring this conversation to an end _finally._ “We just haven’t practiced yet.” 

“Practiced?” Margaery asked with a perfectly arched brow. “Doesn’t that sound absolutely romantic.” 

“Oh, shove it, Marg,” Sansa said. She slid the book across the table. “I only want to hear about invitation opinions.” 

Arya smiled. “I like it when Sansa gets all _bossy._ ” 

Margaery laughed. “Me too.” 

* * *

Theon was standing by the stove in an attempt at making toasties since it was his night to cook and he really only had a handful of specialties. Sansa was sitting on the counter, drinking water, and thinking too hard over Margaery’s words. How Sansa had responded by saying they would _practice_ like that was a normal thing for two almost married people to do. 

She was right, really. It was another thing she hadn’t properly _contemplated_ when she decided to make good on her and Theon’s promise from eight years ago. 

“Theon?” she asked as she watched the back of his head tilted forward, determinedly watching to make sure the sandwiches didn’t burn. He hummed back in reply, and she assumed that was about as much as he was going to be saying about that. “Do you think we should practice kissing?” 

He froze. She knew because she was watching every part of his body with a determined sort of focus to see if he did just that. When he looked up at her, his face was trained to a calm perfection. “What do you mean?”

“We have to kiss at the wedding,” she said. “Don’t you think… we should maybe practice that?” 

“You want… me to kiss you?” 

She nodded. “For practice.” 

“For practice,” he repeated, though slower than her as if giving his mind time to catch up to reality. He nodded and stepped closer, bringing a hand up to rest on her neck. “You sure?” he whispered. 

“Theon,” she said, her voice sure but still breathy because the way his thumb was rubbing over the delicate part of her neck was already driving her insane, “kiss me.” 

He didn’t take any more persuading after that. His lips were on hers, and Sansa knew this was supposed to be a practice kiss for the wedding, but it was clear it had already turned away from that. Her arms went instantly around his neck, and he was standing between her legs, and the way his tongue licked over her bottom lip made her moan into his mouth. 

One of her hands came up and into his hair, scratching at his scalp, and he pulled her tighter and more toward him. It brought her nearly off the counter, and Sansa was going to have to pull back to breathe soon, but she didn’t _want_ to. She wanted to keep kissing Theon until it was quite literally the death of her. What a way to go.

“Fuck,” he said as he pulled back, practically panting. “We can _not_ do that for our wedding kiss.” 

She laughed, head thrown back, and the open neck must have been enticing because he dipped forward and sucked a mark there. 

“Theon,” she said as she laughed, then gasped as he sucked in just the right spot. “Theon.” He pulled back, looking sort of wrecked already—hair in a million directions, lips plump and red. _She had done that._ Somehow it made it all the hotter and all the more unbelievable. “The toasties will burn.” 

“ _Fuck_ the toasties,” he said as he turned the stove off. 

Quickly, he was turning back around to her and pulling her off the counter. She squealed, wrapping her legs around his waist on reflex to keep her in place. “We can’t do this at our wedding, either, Theon,” she said into the cove of his neck. 

“Wedding night, then,” he told her, simply and plainly and with more confidence then it looked like he possessed as she watched the vulnerability flicker across his face. 

She dipped forward to kiss him again, kiss that insecurity away from him, taste the way his mouth tasted exactly like she had imagined, as he walked them back to _their_ bedroom. _Theirs._

* * *

The clock blinked 3:03 in the morning when she awoke from a rustling on the other end of the bedroom. She pulled the sheets closer to her torso, though she knew Theon had already seen every part of it ( _oh_ how he’d seen each and every spot, savoring them and tasting them and… she had to stop or she’d get all worked up just thinking about it). 

“Theon?” Her voice was thin with the cover of sleep still shadowed over it. 

He looked up from the closet where he’d been seemingly searching for something. When he stood back up to full height, he was in his boxers but still had no t-shirt on. She could see the spot on his shoulder where she’d bit to stifle her climax, and wow she was really never going to be able to be in the same room with him without thinking about the fact that she was absolutely, head over heels and all the cliches mixed in, in love with him. 

What an inconvenience. She really wished Arya and everyone else hadn’t been so right about it all. 

“I want to ask you something,” he declared. _His_ voice didn’t sound shrouded by sleep. _He_ sounded as sure as someone could sound. It was reassuring. 

“Okay,” she began with a little nod. 

“I feel like you should be wearing a shirt for it,” he continued as he tossed her one of his. 

She slipped into it, feeling the worn cotton comfortably settle against her skin. “Okay,” she repeated. “Ready.” 

He stepped over to the edge of the bed before kneeling down. When she caught what he was holding, had been picking up in the closet presumably, it was a small ring box. Her eyes widened. 

“Sansa Stark—”

“Yes.” 

He rolled his eyes but smiled affectionately. “Let me finish, love. Sansa Stark, I have been pretty much in love with you for the past decade give or take a few years. You’re everything another person could want, you’re honest to whatever fucking god there is or isn’t _perfect_ , and I guess that's why I was so afraid to tell you any of that for a long time.

“But I bought this ring. I bought it because I wanted to tell you how stupid in love with you I am, and how I want to do this for real. You and me. Theon and Sansa. Married with no exceptions, and if you don’t that's fine and I can move out and we can go back to… whatever we were, but I want to be your husband.”

“Theon Greyjoy,” she said, though it felt hard because she was smiling so wide. She held out her hand to him, and he looked like someone praying at an altar, someone finding everything he could have wished for. “Put that ring on my finger, that _beautiful_ fucking ring, and be my husband. Then get back into this bed so we can make up for every goddamn second you _weren’t_ sharing my bed.” 

His smile was beautiful enough to threaten to break her heart from pure bliss. “Whatever you want Mrs. Greyjoy.” 

“Damn straight. Whatever _I_ want, Mr. Stark.” 

She pulled him back onto the bed and tugged his face to hers, kissing every crevice and freckle and mole she could reach. So many spots to kiss that she hadn’t kissed before. Though, she figured she had an endless stretch of time to do it now. Forever, really.

* * *

THOSE MEDDLING KIDS (AND THEIR DOG, TOO)

 **Sansa** : So, announcement! 

**Theon** : Exciting announcement!!!!

 **Sansa** : We’re getting married!

 **Dany** : You were already getting married but go off i guess

 **Yara** : you talkin like MARRIED married ??

 **Sansa** : We’re getting married!!!

 **Jon** : Well, thank gods that clears that up. 

**Margaery** : Can I be maid of honor? 

**Arya** : We aren’t renegotiating terms and titles margaery it stays the same stop trying to freeze me out

 **Yara** : If you suddenly removed me as best man I would actually light something on fire

 **Dany** : babe! That's so hot!!!

 **Margaery** : I want a hot girlfriend who loves when I burn stuff!!!

 **Meera** : I mean… 👀

 **Margaery** : oh. OH. Want to be my plus one to Theon and Sansa’s wedding? 

**Bran** : I will gladly be it, thanks for asking Margaery. 

**Meera** : Bran hop off that, you aren’t funny. Go back to snogging my brother and let me HAVE THIS. 

Gladly accept. Tell me what color to wear to match your ensemble, and I will do it. 

**Sansa** : Love is so beautiful. Especially mine. 

**Theon** : Especially OURS. 

**Arya** : Gross save it for the wedding. 

**Myrcella** : Love you guys!! Even though you’re so so dumb!!!! Both of you! All of you!!!!

 **Dany** : omfg does this mean THEON gets to be in the Stark Olympics before me. 

**Robb** : Yes. 

**Dany** : GRRRRRRRRR

 **Gendry** : This group sucks. I mute you all and then find there’s like sixteen million messages to catch up on. Don’t any of you have jobs. Or lives. 

**Sansa** : Gendry! Say nice things to me or I’ll cry. 

**Gendry** : Sorry, Sansa. I’m happy for you. Even if I don’t understand what’s happening. 

**Sansa** : Thank you all!!! You may all go back to your regularly scheduled content now. 

**Arya** : what do we normally talk about tho

the stock market? how about those stocks yeah

 **Rickon** : I baby

* * *

THEON 💍 GREYJOY

 **Sansa** : Hey, did you know I love you? And we’re getting married? 

**Theon** : No. You should tell me it again. 

**Sansa** : I mean… come back to bed and I will. 

**Theon** : ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Just kidding, who am I joking, I am literally dragging our dog back to the flat rn to get there

 **Sansa** : xoxo

 **Theon** : Love you more. 

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr at: [anniebibananie](http://anniebibananie.tumblr.com/)


End file.
